


Constant

by wesleysgirl



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleysgirl/pseuds/wesleysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Much thanks to Taffy for the beta.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Constant

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to Taffy for the beta.

  
_We were._  
  
They echo in Cordelia's brain; everything coming down to those two simple,   
single-syllable words. She hadn't wanted to remember. She doesn't want   
to remember now. It's too much, and the pain she saw in Angel's eyes   
just makes it that that much worse. Because she can never, ever go back   
to him; not the way that she wanted to, before.  
  
It's done.  
  
And she gets as far as the courtyard before she realizes that she has   
nowhere to go, and through the gateway and onto the sidewalk before   
she realizes that nothing's ever going to be the same again. It's just   
as she's realizing that it might have been better if the visions had   
just blown her brains out that she runs full-tilt into someone with   
a solid *whumph* that knocks the wind out of her sails and her lungs   
at the same time.  
  
It also knocks her on her ass, but she doesn't feel the pain of that   
because she's so surprised.  
  
"Cordelia?" A voice that's so familiar it might as well be Angel's or   
her own, and then warm hands touching hers as Wesley crouches on the   
sidewalk next to her.  
  
"I don't... I didn't..." she starts, but the nowhere-to-go seems to   
apply to her words as well as everything else, and she stops again.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Cordelia is so far from all right that it's downright hilarious, but   
she doesn't have the energy to laugh. "No."  
  
"You're hurt?" Wesley's hand cups her face, tilts it upward so that   
their eyes meet, and that's when she starts to cry.  
  
It reminds her how much she _hates_ crying. Now that she's started   
she can't stop, and luckily Wesley seems to understand that it's not   
her body that's hurt. But he doesn't understand everything, because   
he gathers her into his arms and stands up, cradling her, and starts   
to walk back toward the courtyard.  
  
" _No,_ " she manages to choke out between sobs, and saying the word   
seems to give her the strength to continue. "Did you somehow not notice   
that I was actually trying to _leave_ the hotel?" Her voice isn't   
any less broken than the rest of her insides, but Wesley hears her,   
and the next thing she knows she's being set gently in the passenger   
seat of his car.  
  
She forces herself to let go of him, and he closes the door and walks   
around to the driver's side.  
  
"Is there somewhere I can take you?"  
  
There's no answer for that question that isn't depressing. "I don't...   
have anywhere to _go,_ " she says, in something close to a wail.  
  
Wes nods and hands her a little travel-pack of tissues as he starts   
up the car and pulls away from the curb.  
  
Cordelia watches out the window, trying to choke back her tears and   
blotting the ones that escape anyway. Cars go by and all it seems so...   
surreal. Like none of this is actually happening, like it's all some   
weird movie with plot twists, and the lights are going to come up in   
the theater and she'll be able to go back to her regular life.  
  
She isn't sure what that would be. It's been too long, and too much   
has happened.  
  
Wesley is shooting her concerned looks from behind the wheel, and for   
once they don't irritate her. Suddenly she realizes that it's been a   
long time since Wes has been able to give her any looks; not since he'd   
kidnapped Connor. She'd thought Angel was right and Wesley was wrong.  
  
Now, everything seems to have been turned upside-down. And she's not   
sure of anything anymore.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" she hears herself asking.  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"This. Being nice to me, after I..." Cordelia doesn't say that he'd   
have been within his rights to have refused to come and help at all.   
She doesn't say that it might have been better if he _had_ refused.   
She doesn't want to know any of this. Not what Angel did, not the way   
she knows it -- not the way she _feels_ it, inside of her, like   
every single one of those things had been done to her.  
  
"You didn't do anything to me, Cordelia," Wesley says, and he reaches   
out and thumbs a tear from her cheek so gently that she almost leans   
into the touch. "Everything that happened before you left was my responsibility,   
not yours."  
  
"But I should have come to see you," she tells him.  
  
Wesley shrugs. "It's done. Don't trouble yourself over it now."  
  
She turns her attention back to the city. "It shouldn't have been like   
this." She's not just talking about what happened between them.  
  
"It's the way things are," Wesley says.  
  
A flare of anger in her chest, burning away the tears. "Well, _screw_   
the way things are," she says. "Life's not fair, that's your brilliant   
answer?"  
  
"I didn't claim it was brilliant." Wes' voice is mild, and that just   
pisses her off more.  
  
"Pull over," she tell him, one hand on the door handle. "I'm out of   
here."  
  
But he doesn't. "I'm not leaving you here," he says, still in that calm   
voice that makes her want to punch him in the nose. The car starts to   
slow down as he takes his foot off the gas. "I'll take you back to the   
hotel, or somewhere else safe, if that's what you'd prefer."  
  
Taking the chance, Cordelia shoves the door open with her shoulder.   
At the same time, Wesley steps hard on the brake, and the car fishtails   
just slightly as it comes to a screeching halt. She's out on the pavement   
before it completely stops moving, stalking back in the direction they   
came, packet of tissues still clutched in her hand, tears still drying   
on her cheeks.  
  
She doesn't get very far.  
  
  


* * * * * 

 

Wesley can't quite believe it when he hears the click of the door handle  
and feels the sudden rush of air, but his foot's already slammed on  
the brakes and the SUV stops abruptly. The car that was driving behind  
them also stops with a screech and a loud blare of the horn. Wesley  
ignores both and jumps out of the car, going after Cordy, and damning  
her utter stupidity.

He grabs onto both of her shoulders before she can get past the end  
of the vehicle and spins her around, not even trying to be gentle. "What  
the bloody hell was that all about?"

"I told you I was getting out," Cordelia says, defiantly.

"And I told you I wasn't leaving you here, not like this." The car waiting  
behind them blares its horn again. "Get back in the car."

"No."

"Cordelia, get back in the bloody car or I'll put you there myself."

Her eyes flash. "I'd like to see you try."

Without pause, Wesley slings her up over his shoulder and starts for  
the passenger side door, which she's helpfully left open. Cordelia struggles  
and manages to get him in the side of the face with one flailing elbow,  
but he continues until he's flung her into the seat. "Stay there," he  
says grimly, and shuts the door.

The driver in the car behind them leans on his horn again as Wesley  
gets behind the wheel. "L.A. drivers," he mutters as he starts the SUV  
up again and pulls away.

Cordelia is sulking beside him, arms crossed in front of her. "I can't  
believe you just did that," she says eventually.

"I can't believe I had to," he counters. "Have you gone completely mad?  
Do you seriously think I could just abandon you in the middle of the  
city?"

"I've been living in L.A. for _years,_ " Cordelia says. "What do  
you think would have happened to me?"

"Oh, let's see. Kidnapping, vampire attack, demon impregnation. Any  
of those ring a bell?" He's filled with disgust at her stupidity, at  
her utter lack of self-preservation. "Have you any money at all?"

"What?" Cordelia looks uncertain, and in that instant Wesley understands  
how truly lost she's been since she returned.

"Cash. It was something you were rather fond of, once."

She rallies, sitting up straighter. "I would have been fine," she says  
stubbornly, her avoidance of the question typical of the Cordelia he  
remembers.

"That's not the point." Wesley gentles his voice now. "You've been through  
a great deal and I'm not going to just leave you when you've been...  
upset."

Cordelia doesn't say anything to that. She goes back to looking out  
the window. "Where are we going?"

He sighs, knowing that the offer he's about to make wouldn't be possible  
if things with Lilah weren't so up in the air. "I suppose we've a few  
options. I could take you somewhere for a meal? Or we could go back  
to my flat... you're welcome to my bed for the night, if you need some  
time away from the hotel."

 

* * * * * 

 

Cordelia gets that he's not offering to share the bed with her -- he'd  
let her have it, sleep on the hard lumpy couch, probably. If it's even  
the same couch. For all she knows he might be living in a different  
apartment, by now.

But no, turns out it's the same one. Same couch. Same everything. Well,  
except for Wes' missing glasses, and the scruffy look that suits him  
 _way_ better than the buttoned-up one ever did. And the scar that  
she tries not to look at too closely, because of all that its presence  
implies.

"Can I get you anything?" Wesley asks, as she moves to perch herself  
on the edge of the couch.

"No. I'm good."

He brings her a glass of water anyway, and she's happy to take it. "Would  
you like to tell me what you remembered?" he says.

She can't help but shiver. "No, actually, I wouldn't."

"You might feel better for it. Sometimes - "

" _No,_ " she says sharply, and then sighs and leans back into the  
couch cushions. The apartment smells familiar, comforting. "When I was  
gone..." she starts, and then falters.

Wes nods, encouraging. "Yes?" He doesn't move closer, but it's like  
he's holding her hand.

"I saw... all the things Angel did. When he was Angelus."

And that's it -- she doesn't have to explain any more, because she can  
see from Wes' expression that he understands. "Ah. I see."

"Remembering it like that, all at once -- it was, you know, kind of  
overwhelming."

"I'm sure it must have been." His voice is neutral, making it easy for  
her to continue if she wants to finish, or to stop if she can't.

"I can't... ever feel the same way about him again. I mean, I _knew_  
he'd done terrible things as Angelus. I was _there_ for some of  
it. Okay, a tiny fraction of it. This was... different."

"Different how?" Still gentle.

"I _felt_ it. All of the things that he did to all of those people...  
it was like he was doing them to me." Cordelia shivers again, discovers  
that she's sitting upright like her body knows it might not be a bad  
idea to run far, far away and never see these people again. Only...  
they're still all she has.

Wesley moves closer, sits down on the table across from her, their knees  
bumping slightly. "I can imagine you would have preferred not to remember  
that bit at all."

She nods. Her stomach hurts, and there are things that she knows she'd  
be able to remember that she just can't handle thinking about right  
now. She looks at Wes instead, at his blue eyes and his familiar face,  
and after a minute or so she realizes that she's staring at him, and  
that she can't seem to look away.

And she sits there as Wesley leans forward and presses his lips against  
hers.

The very second that the kiss happens, she knows it's all over. There's  
too much that she needs and can't have for her to be able to refuse  
this, now.

 

* * * * * 

 

Wesley's surprised that he wants her so badly, even though it's been  
no more than forty-eight hours since he last fucked Lilah.

This is _Cordelia,_ he reminds himself. She's been through a great  
deal and she's emotionally raw and what she needs, mostly likely, is  
someone to comfort her and make her tea and pat her shoulder. She can't  
possibly need this.

But Wesley does, and the fact that she seems to want it so badly pushes  
him beyond caring whether or not it's the right thing to do.

She gasps into his mouth, her tongue meeting his. She tastes like ash  
and herbs and her skin is smooth and more delicate than Lilah's. The  
kiss is much, much hotter than he would have expected, and he has to  
force himself to stay in control, not to do something that might hurt  
her. She's different from Lilah in that way as well. He and Lilah are  
looking for new ways to feel the pain -- Cordelia's just trying to make  
it go away.

Cordelia kisses him frantically. "I'm sorry," she says, and Wesley pulls  
back immediately, despite her hands gripping his shirt front.

"Is that what this is?" he asks coldly. "An apology?"

"No," Cordy says, her eyes snapping with more than a bit of her old  
fire. "The apology was when I said 'I'm sorry.' This," and her tongue  
moves out and across his lower lip, "is something else."

It's a good enough explanation for Wesley's hands, apparently, since  
they're already busy helping her remove her shirt, already unhooking  
her brassiere and moving to cup her picture-perfect breasts. His thumbs  
brush over her nipples, teasingly, and she moans into his mouth.

He's pushing her back onto the couch, kissing her, and then sliding  
down her body to circle a nipple with his tongue, barely touching it,  
just leaving a damp spiral.

She shivers and whispers his name. "Wesley."

He can't see the point of rushing things, so he takes his time. Traces  
her aereolas with the flat of his tongue, again and again, but not giving  
her nipples the contact that she obviously craves. She writhes beneath  
him, fingers of one hand entwined with his as he teases her past the  
point where she can bear it. Her own hand moves down to touch one nipple  
then, but Wesley pushes it away, and draws the tight point into his  
mouth, sucking firmly.

Cordelia cries out, softly, her body arching under his, her thigh pressing  
upward between his legs maddeningly.

He releases her hand so that he can pinch her other nipple, first gently,  
and then with more pressure when she moves against him encouragingly.  
His teeth mimic the touch on her other breast.

Wesley takes his time.

 

* * * * * 

 

It's driving her _nuts._ She's always been sensitive, and Wes is  
playing her like he knows her body much better than he ought to. Cordelia  
squirms underneath him, manages to shift his weight slightly, and slides  
a hand between them to cup Wes' cock through his pants.

He shudders, and then uses his teeth just a little bit more sharply.  
"Don't play with me, Cordelia," he says warningly, before kissing her  
harder than before. "I'm not the same person you knew, any more than  
you are, I'd imagine. Don't push me too far."

"How about I push you just far enough?" she asks, and there isn't any  
playfulness in the question. She needs him. Well, needs something. Guess  
this'll have to be enough.

Wesley thrusts himself against her palm, just once, and then stands  
up and pulls her to her feet. He undoes her pants and pushes them down  
along with her panties, rough, and then his tongue pushes ticklingly  
against her clit and she groans, uncontrollably.

"I'd rather push you," he tells her. "Unless you have some objection?"

Cordelia's only objection is that he's stopped what he was doing, but  
he returns to working her clit before she can voice it. Her hands are  
clutching his shoulders and the fabric of his shirt is smooth under  
her fingertips. She closes her eyes and tries to forget everything but  
what Wes is doing to her.

His tongue flicks, pushes, flicks again. Enough to bring her to the  
edge, several times, but not enough to take her past that. She can feel  
herself starting to hyperventilate, and he's still just teasing her.  
"Please," she says, and she's not asking nicely.

Wes' tongue trails her bikini line. "Please what?" he asks.

It's only with huge amounts of self-control that she manages not to  
shove her own fingertip against her clit and bring herself off. She's  
so close. "I'm not going to beg," she tells him.

He slides his finger up between her thighs and then pushes it into her,  
just a little bit. "Fair enough," Wesley says. He stands up and starts  
to take off his clothes, casual and confident. He wasn't kidding when  
he said he was different now. He's toned in ways that are new, and he  
seems comfortable in his skin.

"Sit down," Wesley tells her, and for some reason, she does.

He kicks the table back out of the way and kneels between her legs,  
and for a few seconds she thinks he's going to go down on her again,  
and she's grateful. But he moves in too close for that, kisses her roughly,  
his stubble scratching her face. His hand is between her thighs again,  
two fingers sliding into her, and she pushes them deeper with a flex  
of her hips. "More," she says, aching for it.

And for a second she thinks Wesley might have grinned, and then his  
fingers are gone, and his tongue pushes into her mouth at the same time  
he shoves his cock into her, with no more warning than that.

It's not the first time today she's totally lost her breath, and Wes  
pauses long enough for her to at least try to catch it again. He's so  
hard inside her, stretching her, and she can't help but rock slightly  
against him.

She whimpers, and Wesley starts to move.

 

* * * * * 

 

Not that Wesley hasn't been doing his fair share of fucking these days,  
but much as he might like to deny it, this is different. Cordelia clenches  
herself around him and bucks her hips, and Wesley could no more stop  
fucking her in that moment than he could stop the sun from burning in  
the sky.

He can feel her heels digging into the small of his back as he thrusts,  
as their bodies move together. He's never fucked Lilah on this specific  
part of the couch -- not in this position, at any rate -- and that makes  
it different, too. The affection that he feels for Cordelia, coupled  
with the fact that, damn it all, this feels _marvelous,_ is enough  
to let him put Lilah aside and concentrate on the woman under him.

Cordelia's whimpering at the height of each thrust, and the sound of  
it tightens his balls. He slides his hand down to where they're joined  
and rubs his thumb roughly over her clit, and she whimpers more loudly.  
Her eyes are closed, and Wesley wonders if she's thinking of someone  
else.

She's hot and wet around him, and when she moans it's Wesley's name  
on her lips. And if there was any part of him that was still holding  
back it vanishes in that instant, for that instant, and he's completely  
there with her, and that's when Wesley knows the difference between  
love and lust and can see that he has one or the other, but not both.

He pulls her closer, kissing her with a depth of feeling he wouldn't  
have thought possible a minute before.

"Cordelia," he says, thrusting, not wanting to forget that this is his  
friend and that he loves her, on some level.

She's so impossibly lovely as she moves to meet him again and again,  
as her body tightens around him in a way he thinks is natural and not  
deliberate, and he can't believe that this might be the only time this  
will happen for them.

Wesley drives into her more quickly, kisses her more fiercely, and she  
whimpers again as he slicks his fingertip over her clit. She's so wet.  
It's over in a second -- one high-pitched noise in the back of her throat,  
and then something close to a scream as she comes, quivering in his  
arms.

Before she's finished, Wesley joins her, burying himself to the hilt  
in her tight heat. He's crushing her into the couch as he finishes,  
and her hands are moving across his back, soothingly, as if she suspects  
this might all be too much for him to bear.

They kiss some more, slowly now, without separating. Wesley wonders  
if Cordelia has the same feeling that he does, that this was a one-time  
affair and once it's over, it's most assuredly over.

Finally, with reluctance, he moves away. "Are you all right?" he asks  
her.

"What?" she says, glassy-eyed with pleasure, her hair mussed. He doesn't  
think she's ever looked so beautiful. "Are you nuts? Of course I'm all  
right."

A smile slips onto his face, and it feels genuine. "Well, good." He  
brushes gentle fingers across her cheek.

Now there's awkwardness. Do they go to bed? Does he offer her a shower  
and assume that she'll know he'd like to join her? Or would it better  
to dress and pretend this hasn't happened? Wesley's unsure of the etiquette  
that follows sleeping with one's friend.

Trust Cordelia to save the day. "Shower," she says, standing up and  
pulling him to his feet as well. "Come on."

His body rallies when he stands next to her under the steaming water,  
when he watches her run soapy hands over her own body. They only wash  
themselves, and don't touch each other at all except for a bumping of  
fingers as she passes him the soap.

"Bed?" Cordelia asks brightly, as they towel themselves dry, her tone  
belying the utter exhaustion he can see on her face.

"Absolutely," he agrees.

She waits until he's settled in a comfortable position and then moves  
over close, not quite touching, her face next to his.

"This is pretty weird," she says.

"It's an interesting turn of events."

"You're not sorry?" She sounds insecure, and he's quick to answer.

"No, of course not." Wesley turns slightly, and their noses almost touch.  
"I mean... unless you are?"

"No." Cordelia shakes her head. "Still... pretty weird."

He does touch her, then, tucking her hair back behind her ear carefully.  
"Why don't you try to sleep?" he suggests.

She nods and closes her eyes. Wesley spends a long time just watching  
her, the lines on her face smoothing away as she slips into sleep. Finally  
he shuts his own eyes and lets go of the moment. His last thought before  
he drifts off is that some things might change, but love doesn't seem  
to.

 


End file.
